Worth, Pendyffryn: The Inheritors, Book III

By Lily Dewaruile

DeFreveille, the Conqueror, is conquered. His children have the home he sought and war goes on. His friend and ally, Christophe Maides, has learned the truth of his parents' love for one another. Both men have found homes and women to love. Their children have their own battles to fight as they make their futures among friends, strangers and their fathers' enemies.

Susanna ach Alun Cwmdu, daughter of the pendefig killed by the invaders and adopted daughter of Christophe Maides—one of the invading army who came to conqueror and stayed to defend—has always been aware of her worth to the men who govern her life.

Though plain and disinclined to the skills of the household, her value—even to her brother, Heilyn, who will become pendefig once Maides has defeated the boy's enemies—is indisputable among the men who seek an alliance with her mother's second husband. Only a man who loves her and is able to protect her is worthy of her in Christophe’s estimation. Is Cynon Machlud, beleaguered pendefig from the north, that man?
•“Always before she had seen him weakened, vulnerable, dependent on her ability to heal. She had never seen him like this—upright and vigorous. Always before he had been on his back, wounded, exhausted by battle and pain, barely able to raise a finger to defend himself from her ministrations. Here, on his feet, standing beside Christophe Maides, was a man larger than she had imagined, stronger and virile.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eres Books
• Release date: Jan 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9781958967119

Lily Dewaruile

Lily Dewaruile is a best-selling author of medieval Welsh fiction. Lily Dewaruile is the pen name of an American author who lived in Wales for thirty years. Her love of the Welsh language, culture and history has inspired her fiction since her first visit to Rhuthun where she heard Welsh spoken for the first time. During her time in Wales, she wrote over twenty novels, many of which are still manuscripts, awaiting their debut.Her first Welsh Medieval novel, TRAITOR'S DAUGHTER, was published while she was living in Wales. The photograph used for the cover of this book is of one the most spectacular sunsets over the historic town of Caerfyrddin, named for the medieval poet, Myrddin (the inspiration for the fictional character, Merlin), where Lily lived for twenty-five of her thirty years in Wales."You will know the man..." One woman stands against the INVASION of her home. One man holds her life in his hands. And... "he was not a man who needed a lot of women. He was a man who needed a lot of one woman. This woman." - INVASION, Book 1 of the Pendyffryn: The Conquerors series, now available. Publication date: November 17, 2012.SALVATION, Book 2 of the Pendyffryn: The Conquerors series. Publication date: January 17, 2013.BETRAYAL, Book 3 of the Pendyffryn: The Conquerors series. Publication date: March 17, 2013REVIVAL, Book 4 of the Pendyffryn: The Conquerors series. Publication date: June 9, 2013RECONCILIATION, Book 5 of the Pendyffryn: The Conquerors. Publication date: January 23, 2014JUSTICE, Book 1 of the Pendyffryn: The Inheritors, Publication date: October 20, 2016MERIT, Book 2 of the Pendyffryn: The Inheritors, Publican date: November 21, 2021More about all of Lily's independently published novels in the Pendyffryn:The Conquers and Pendyffryn:The Inheritors series are on her website: lilydewaruile.com and eresbooks.com, Smashwords, as well as KDP: Amazon and most independent online booksellers.Recent Posts: https://lilydewaruile.com/ysgrifau-posts/

Book preview

Worth

Pendyffryn: The Inheritors

Book iii

Third Edition

Lily Dewaruile

EresBooks.com

Copyright © 2024 Eres Books

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-1-958967-11-9

ISBN-10: 1-958967-11-9

Cover Design: Gwion Dulais

Cover Photography: Carn Menyn o Foeldrigarn © 2010 J.G. Llewelyn

Worth is a work of fiction. The characters, descriptions, events and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, either living or dead, is coincidental.

Third Digital Edition: January 2024

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

Published and Printed in the United States

Cyflwyniad/Dedication

To the friends & family who have always encouraged me

&

In memory of Hallie Myrna

Cydnabyddiaeth/

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Samantha Dulais for her answers to all my questions about horses and their training.

I am especially grateful to all the historians and people of Cymru and other small countries who have, despite efforts to suppress their language, culture and history, known the truth and made it visible.

Diolchiadau i Samantha Dulais am ei fodlonrwydd i ateb fy lli o gwestiynau am geffylau ac eu hyfforddiant.

Yn arbennig, rwy’n ddiolchgar i’r hanesyddwyr a’r bobl o Gymru a gwledydd bach eraill, er ymdrechion i guddio eu hiaith, diwylliant a’u hanes, sydd wedi gwybod y gwir a’i gwneud yn weladwy.

Cymru am byth.

Cynnwys/Contents

Worth: Book III

Cyflwyniad/Dedication

Also by Lily Dewaruile

Cynabyddiaeth/Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Geiriadur/Glossary

Readers’ Comments

About the Author

Anarawd ap Rhodri Mawr Regis Gwynedd a Phowys

Cadell ap Rhodri Mawr a thad Hywel Dda Regis Seisyllwg [0]

Anarawd, son of Rhodri the Great,

King of Gwynedd and Powys

Cadell, son of Rhodri the Great & father of Hywel Dda,

King of South Cereduguib & West Dyfed

One

Llangwmdu, AD886

There is your task, the meddyg[1] told Susanna as she entered the hospital at midday when the first of the carts was seen coming up the river valley. He’s been here since dawn. He brought his brother on his back though he was wounded as well. I’ve stitched him but he hasn’t awakened. See what you can do, merch[2], the meddyg finished and turned to his other patients.

Susanna pressed her lips together and glanced around the dining hall but all the other women were too busy to come to her aid. After a moment’s hesitation, she let a few drops of water fall onto the young soldier’s lips as she had once seen her step-father do for her mother. Assured, after a brief study of his face, that she had done nothing to make his condition worse, Susanna lifted his head a little and poured a few drops more into his mouth and waited again for the result. Finally satisfied that she was doing more good than harm, Susanna sat by the warrior for the remainder of the afternoon, dripping cool water through his parted lips and waiting for her mother to relieve her from her vigil.

After a long while, she became deaf to the deep groans of the men recovering from surgeries and the screams of those whose wounds required the drastic efforts of the meddyg’s knives. She saw none of the women around her, rushing from one living man to another offering the same comfort as she gave to the young warrior whose face, though drenched in pain and sweat, was familiar to her.

A few moments after dark, by the light of the torches on the wall, the eyelids of her patient flickered. She leaned closer to moisten his lips with the water in the cup.

Blessed God, the man gasped, staring into the bright eyes hovering over his face.

Startled by his sudden recovery, Susanna leapt back, spilling the water remaining in the cup over herself and the man’s blood-stained shirt. She stared back at him, into his sorrowful, gray-blue eyes. You are awake, she exclaimed under her breath.

Aye, he murmured. My brother?

He has been awake for hours, Susanna told him though she had little news of his brother. "He wasn’t as badly hurt as you. Why didn’t you let him carry you? She sat back and folded her arms across her chest, waiting for his reply. The warrior looked around the noisy hall, searching for his brother. He needed no stitching."

The warrior raised his hand to the stitched wound on his belly. Susanna placed a length of dry linen over the wound, peeling away the edges of his sodden shirt.

What is your name?

Cynon.

As Susanna opened her mouth to tell him her name, the meddyg interrupted, sending her out of the hall as he examined his patient. There was a look in the soldier’s eyes, something that sparked a memory, a moment in her life after Han Chadzy brought war and before Christophe Maides brought salvation, ten years before. Although a child, she had offered aid to the wounded men and boys.

Crossing the barracks stockade, attentive to the battle-weary warriors in her path, her thoughts returned to the young soldier as she searched the faces of the men for one who could be Cynon’s brother. Her effort brought her to the far end of the barracks where her step-father’s second in command, Iago, and Gwennan Pendyffryn’s spy, Bedwyn, murmured together.

Knowing better than to interrupt until they finished sharing their communications, Susanna continued her search of the piecemeal army gathered to confront yet another enemy, her own aunt, Morgan Cwmdu. Although her cause was ever more futile since Susanna’s younger brother, Heilyn ab[3] Alun, had become pendefig[4]—as was his rightful place following the death of their father—Morgan claimed the right of inheritance as Maldwyn Cwmdu’s widow. If not her, one of her brothers.

Battles had raged for as long as Susanna remembered. The constant threat from the Saeson[5], as well as the mercenaries who came with the intention of conquering but stayed to protect and build, was her introduction to the ways of men. Until that night when both her uncle, Maldwyn, and her father, Alun Cwmdu, were known to be killed in battle, Susanna ach[6] Alun had lived in the shelter of her parents’ home in Llangwmdu.

Did you want to speak to me, Susanna? Iago asked, turning away from the spy and taking a step toward her. Bedwyn nodded to her and turned his back.

There is a soldier in the hospital whose brother was wounded.

The soldier’s name?

Cynon.

I know him. He was fostered by Maldwyn and wounded in that battle as well. A good man.

"The meddyg said he carried his brother from the battle."

That does not surprise me. Cynon Machlud would carry five wounded men if necessary.

I am looking for his brother—to ease Cynon’s mind so that he can heal without concern.

I have not seen him.

"I have seen Dunawd Machlud, boneddiges[7], Bedwyn interjected, moving forward. His wound was slight but his wailing—."

That one, Iago sneered. If I had been near, he would have had reason to scream.

Where is he now? Susanna asked.

Gone, Bedwyn replied. I have not seen him since Cynon brought him.

Did he not survive?

He survived, Susanna, but did not stay to ensure his younger brother did, Iago answered.

He returned to battle?

"Not that one, boneddiges, Bedwyn informed her. He has gone back to his homeland. No man to trust in battle or peace, in my opinion. He left Cynon for dead where he fell at the door of the hospital."

Susanna nodded. I will tell Cynon his brother lives.

Her duties to the sick and wounded kept her away from the warrior she still remembered from her first days of nursing the casualties of war. Although ten years had passed, Susanna remembered his eyes. They had not changed in all the years between his first battle and this. How many more battles does Cynon Machlud have before the pain he bears with such strength is relieved forever by his awakening to bless God?

Susanna knew the answer from the expression in her llysdad’s[8] eyes each time he was called to take his sword in his hand. For men of his calling, true relief came only with death.

When she returned to care for the most severely wounded, she did not see the young soldier with the gray-blue eyes in any of the makeshift beds along the wall.

Susanna awakened in the hour before dawn. Since her brother had become pendefig of Cwmdu, her mother had wed Christophe Maides and her youngest half-brother, Cadan, had passed his second year, she had slept alone. Eight days had passed since the final battle. The hospital was clear of all but the most fearfully wounded.

Hearing footsteps above her, she threw off the extra carthen[9] and scrambled from the bed. At the sound of Caryl’s laughter, Susanna dressed in her simplest gown and tunic before joining Bopa to prepare breakfast for her family. Once breakfast was ready, she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders.

From the bottom of the staircase, she called, "Mam[10]. Mam, I have to go to the hospital."

Hmmm? Why?

I want to help those who are able to walk.

Christophe has asked?

No, Susanna admitted. I am already late.

Caryl sighed heavily, braiding her flaxen hair as she descended to the lower room to help Bopa but Susanna was impatient and left the house without combing her hair or eating breakfast. By the time she reached the barracks, Susanna’s urgency was intense as she stared at the entrance to the hospital, still occupied by the badly wounded and dying.

Susanna bowed her head. The morning was gray and a cloud of mist spilled over the top of the mountain, cascading over the tops of the trees like milk. The meddyg had not asked her to go to the hospital. By her insistence, she could cause a great deal of harm.

What brings you here?

Susanna swung her head to answer her llysdad. You are here! she exclaimed.

"Where am I supposed to be, merch? Maides asked. I have asked you the same."

I can be useful, Susanna answered, turning toward him. Maides held up his hand and she stopped.

For many of these men, only a priest can aid them.

I can comfort them. I meant to—. She pressed her lips together, her true purpose too foolish to confess.

I have no doubt comfort is needed but so also is peace. Unless you know the man you comfort—.

I had thought I knew one but he is no longer here, Susanna murmured, dropping her chin to her chest.

Dead?

"I do not know, Tada[12]. I was told only that he is not here and his brother, whom he saved, left him to die."

"There is no reason for you to come from the house at this time of morning. All of the wounded who were able have gone home or to their beds in the hafodydd[15]." He glanced at the house and turned his attention to the woman his step-daughter had become, studying her disheveled appearance.

Submitting to the scrutiny, Susanna bit her lips. "I only meant to be useful. Mam no longer needs me in the house. Bopa is there and Branwen’s baban is well born. Since their loss of Braint, so many years ago, they have a daughter at last.

Maides frowned. "Other than the inconvenience to your mam, why did that cause you to leave at this hour?"

I am more useful as nurse.

Maides was silent for a moment. Susanna, he said, holding out his hand to her. She sighed and came toward him. He led her a few paces away and lifted her chin so that she had to meet his gaze. "If you are troubled, speak to your mam. If not her, to me. These men are not your concern."

"Yes, Tada[12]."

What do you want to do today?

Susanna hesitated for only a moment. I want to learn to ride your stupid horse.

Maides glanced at the house once more, but agreed with a nod. Tell Cadan to bridle and bring the stupid one here. As the young woman ran toward her half-brother’s quarters, Maides turned to his house as Caryl came toward him.

I knew she had rather be in the hospital. She said there is still work to be done, Caryl replied when her husband explained Susanna’s change of mind. I would rather she stayed in the house. Branwen still needs care but Susanna has been—I cannot be certain—distant?

Caryl looked away for a moment. The kitchen maids and some of the soldiers had begun to appear in the buarth[14]. Moc Tools came from his hafod[15] to begin his work for the day and Caryl greeted him with a smile.

Go back to the house, Maides said. I will bring Susanna back to you when we return.

Caryl walked away. When she set her foot on the slope to the house, though Moc was talking to him, Christophe watched her. Once she reached the door, he turned to face the toolmaker. Cadan, their youngest son, and Susanna led the warhorse and Susanna’s gelding. Maides leapt onto Brute’s back, gesturing to Cadan to help Susanna mount. Brute reared once and trotted out of the farmstead, toward the river.

Maides stayed close to Susanna but the young woman had a natural command of riding, comfortable and secure on the broad shoulders of the horse she had trained.

May I ride Brute?

"That is not wise, blodyn[11]. As you have already judged, he is stupid." Maides urged the warhorse to a gallop to the north, along the riverbank. Susanna followed, her tangled hair blew in the rush of wind and wrapped around her shoulders. Her solid body leaned forward over the gelding’s neck. Maides sat erect, allowing the wind to buffet him, clearing his head of casualties, conspiracies and corruption. When they reached a place that could not be observed from the Llan, he pulled back on the reins and glanced at his now grown llysferch[16].

I want to learn to ride your warhorse, I want to know how to fight.

Susanna, he warned. You seek trouble.

It is important.

Why?

I want to learn. I want to be—I want to be a warrior.

For what reason? he asked, studying her profile.

So I do not always have to seek help if someone wants to do me harm.

The Sharkeyn swung his leg over the warhorse’s haunches and dropped to the ground. "To defend yourself, merch, or to kill?"

Susanna looked away for a moment as he came to stand beside her. When she turned her head, she met his eyes with an expression he recognized. Who do you fear, Susanna?

Not many.

Who?

My cousin, Andras, and—. She slid to the ground and approached Brute, facing her llysdad, studying the leather-soled boots on her feet.

Another man? he demanded, setting his broad hands on her shoulders. Does someone trouble you? Another warrior who comes to the house? the Sharkeyn inquired, searching her face.

No. No one threatens me now. I do not want to depend on the strength of any other. I want to be strong, to be as skilled in battle.

I can teach you to defend yourself against a man, Maides assured her, but a woman uses different means.

"I do not want to use the ways of women, Tada. I have learned those well enough from Morgan Cwmdu. I want to be a warrior, like Buddug[032].

He walked away. When he turned, he said, "Susanna, you are asking me to send you, as I would a man I have trained, into battle. You are